Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ireland Gundy Mar 2015
Louis is dead.
Metropolas is gone,
No more pretend
the clowns had his fun.

Batman wont stop me
Not this time,
He wont**** off free,
The joker is mine.
Ireland Gundy Mar 2015
the vase that sits upon the shelf,
so brittle and cracked,
it sits on the edge,
waiting to fall,
it fears it might shatter,
for it has before,
he picked each peice up,
gluing it back together,
though he is a good care taker,
the fear still remains.
Ireland Gundy Mar 2015
"what a wicked smile"" they say,
A grin with a twist,
A smirk I display.
They don't understand this isn't bliss
Madness is my escape,
just choose the right door,
and insanity creates,
Its never to be known what's in store.
I relate to no one.
well that's dramatic.
The one who I was created from,
the addict.
He's always come back .
fowling my plot.
The knight in black,
"the bat who can't be caught"
that's what they say in Arkam,
they think they're special.
Don't worry about that ****,
just stick to our schedule.
You wouldn't exist with out me,
I make you better.
Ill break free,
youll find me sooner or later.
just me and you.
Ill be waiting.
Ireland Gundy Mar 2015
Gotham the city of flight,
Where the moral and wicked fight,
Laughter rings throughout the dark
As the deranged leaves his mark.
He speaks for the mad,
and fails to recall what it is he had.
He see it as a amusement views me as a toys,
what he does he some how enjoys.
I've beat him time and time again,
though he still remains the most mysterious of men.
I once went to see him no mask, no cape,
Batman had returned him from another escape.
I walk to his cell "Bruce Wayne. Hi"
he wouldn't turn around, nor look me in the eye.
He didn't care who was behind the mask,
but there I stood "Dear Ol' Bats"
I knew then.
I was nothing to him.
But every plot so clever. So canny,
He's had so many chances,
but never glances.
Maybe it frightens him, the idea that I am just a man.
Unmasking me might bring back thoughts of how he began.
Maybe it helps him with his blind recollection.
Almost like the clown wouldn't feel succession,
The man with a ruby red grin.
He would come back to reality,
but what then?

— The End —